Gabrielle Writes a Letter
by Phineas Redux
Summary: Gabrielle reacts angrily to a letter from a famous Senator in Athens, who is willing to lend his name as patron to her published scrolls now she is famous. She writes a starchy reply.


' **Gabrielle Writes a Letter** '

By Phineas Redux

—OOO—

 **Description:—** Gabrielle reacts angrily to a letter from a famous Senator in Athens, who is willing to lend his name as patron to her published scrolls now she is famous.She writes a starchy reply.

 **Note** :— This story is based on Dr Samuel Johnson's famous Letter to the Earl of Chesterfield, which is readily available for perusal on the internet.

 **Disclaimer** :— MCA/Universal/RenPics own all copyrights to everything related to ' _Xena: Warrior Princess_ ' and I have no rights to them.

—O—

The room in the villa located in the suburbs of Athens was high-ceilinged, cool with the early summer morning breeze wafting in the open window from the small central garden, and contained one angry Amazon plus one bewildered Princess.

"See the morning scroll-deliverer's been." Xena was never at her best in the morning, rising after a late night. "Anything interestin', or is it just the usual bills from the Athenian Treasury tryin' t'mulct law-abidin' citizens of taxes that don't exist?"

"The man's a moron." The Amazon scowled malevolently at the scroll she held.

"Damned if I care." Xena was unconcerned, spreading a liberal amount of honey on a thick cut of bread as she sat at the breakfast table. "Who's a moron? Do we know him. Can I hit him over the head with somethin' heavy? Always ready t'lend a hand, lover."

"Senator Kreon, that's who." Gabrielle simmered quietly, like Etna considering its options. "An' I can do my own hitting over the head, thank you very much."

The Warrior Princess took a mighty bite, and sat chewing contentedly; first things first, after all. Then she turned an only half-open eye on her counterpart on the chair by her side, still occupied in making a series of strange unreadable faces.

"Kleon? Kleon? Nope, don't know the mutt. Who is he? An' should I care?"

"K _r_ eon. Gods, Xena, open your ears." The blonde Amazon gave her tall dark lover a snappy glance, fiery sparks flickering in green eyes. "He was a moron then, an' he's a moron still."

"Oh well, _his_ natural outlook's settled, then." The black-haired warrior turned her mind to important matters. "Are we leavin' today; or d'ya wan'na stay a while longer?"

"I ought'a write him a letter. Yeah, that's what I ought'a do. I ought'a write the miserable—what's that word the Romans use?—oh yes, misanthrope, a letter. That's what I ought'a do."

"So, we've decided what ya ought'a do then, have we?" Xena liked her little joke of a morning.

Although early Gabrielle was already fully dressed. That is, she was wearing her usual gear, which consisted of not much generally. A top which did its duty but,—passers-by couldn't help thinking as they, _er_ , passed by with leering eyes,—only to the teetering edge of the meaning of the Act. Held in place by a few thin strings, holding the name of straps merely as an honorary title, leaving her back more or less bare. And, as those pesky passers-by were wont to acknowledge gleefully, what a back; pale-skinned, smooth as silk; muscled like a Roman gladiator; and reflecting a sheen of perspiration like a well polished piece of oak. She, it need hardly be recorded, regularly turned heads wherever she went.

Her skirt was newly bought from a reputable, and extremely expensive, haberdasher in the classiest shopping agora in Athens; using Xena's money, of course. Consisting of red cloth, layered in three separate levels, all moving independently as she walked; it was a clear two finger's-widths shorter than her last skirt, now retired from duty; not that the Athenian passers-by objected in any way; they, after all, readily appreciating a leg when the opportunity offered—and Gabrielle's legs, well-muscled, tanned to perfection, and capable of kicking an over-zealous admirer their own body-length in the dust, were eye-stoppingly gorgeous.

Of course, the fact a long sharp-pointed sai was firmly tied to the outside of each of her calf-length red buckskin boots tended to make possible enthusiasts ponder the alternatives likely to happen before they pursued their amatory suits—which is to say, most had the common-sense to turn and walk away, still unbroken and unbowed, not to say not nursing their wounds—most not being fools, after all.

Gabrielle now expressed her inner rage by grabbing the offending missive in both hands, holding it high in front of her, and tugging firmly as she tried energetically to rip it apart—without, naturally, any success.

"Hades' damn this parchment." The Amazon warrior was incensed; baring her sparkling teeth, white as the purest Pentelic marble, in the passion of the moment. "Why's parchment so damned hard t'tear. All I wan'na do is rip the damned thing t'pieces, like a bear enjoyin' its mornin' snack."

"Goatskin, dear." Xena had the cold scientific facts readily to hand. "You're not gon'na tear that, however much ya try. Give it up. Hey, pass that beaker o'wine. Is it white? I like white in the mornin'. Eases my headache."

"Damn your headache, woman. If you don't want a headache, don't drink like a parched desert-traveller the night before." Gabrielle was wholly unforgiving, not being in her usual relaxed all-appreciating frame of mind herself. "Gods, I was embarrassed at the banquet last night; how could you drink so much? Then I only just steered you off performing that awful Cytheran dance, where it seems necessary t'lose all your clothes by its end. Gods, an' it was a near run thing too, I'm here t'tell you, Princess."

"I never did! I never did!" The outraged Princess frowned darkly at this obvious slander. "I never would. It's a dam' lie."

"Whatever." The blonde censor was unruffled, having more important things on her mind. "Anyways, about this damned scroll, is it true the Athenian Senate still think murder's a capital crime?"

"I believe so." Xena spoke with a restrained chilliness.

"Huh." Gabrielle shook her head quickly, causing her short hair to ruffle like white waves on the sea-shore. Xena, avidly watching, was appeased instantly. "Oh well, looks is if my only course is t'write the bastard a letter myself. How d'you spell ' _you sick motherf-ng son of a diseased goat's unnatural union with a poxed whale._ '? In Archaic Greek, that is; I don't wan'na waste colloquial Hellenistic language on the six-times loser."

"Har! So, lem'me get this straight beautiful sprite, you don't harbour deep feelings of Love an' Tenderness towards this specimen, I take it?"

Gabrielle forbore to reply, simply turning on her chair to look at the strong woman by her side with an expression wherein lop-sided tightly compressed lips said all that was necessary.

"Ah-ha." Having finished breakfast, and being the more so ready to face the world in all its glory, Xena raised an eyebrow and considered her partner's circumstances logically for the first time. "So, what'd the idiot do, all those years ago. An' remember, lover, if it was some kind'a pathetic assault thing y'can consider him past history right now. Just give me the address, an' I can make him disappear off the face of the earth, pronto, no clues remainin'."

"Aww, that's sweet, my love." Gabrielle could appreciate heartfelt concern, offered so unreservedly. "But nah, I been considering a reply for the past hour an', I got'ta tell you, baby, I've figured out a stream of invective that'll lay the big poltroon flat on his back with astonishment. I've already completed the first draft. So, for the final composition just lead me to a sharp stylus, a pot o' cheap ink, an' a blank parchment, an' watch what happens."

Pushing the platter with the remains of the bread away Xena leaned forward and held out an open hand, with a look of enquiring interest. Gabrielle shrugged, and passed across Kreon's offending epistle. Xena then unrolled the long piece of parchment and pored over it with frowning attention.

 _From the Office of Lord Kreon, Member of the Athenian Senate, to Gabrielle of Potidaea, author._

 _My Lady Gabrielle, it is with great pleasure that I have perused your latest scroll. A most fine work, full of interest and fine language, most worthy of my giving your efforts my congratulatory benefactions. It is, of course, an extremely noteworthy and important grant which I so offer, to be inscribed at the head of your forthcoming editions; not every work on the literary market being able to boast my approval. I am sure, as is always the case, my endorsement will produce a large increase in sales figures, and thereby profit, for us both; while my sponsorship of your work, to the tune of fifty tetradrachms, will alleviate all necessity to starve in a garret—as is, I understand, the common case. I, of course, will expect for my time and trouble in this slight affair a mere paltry percentage of overall sales, shall we say twenty per cent? I shall expect,— my being, as I am, a very busy and extremely important member of Athenian Society,—your admiring and thanks-laden approval of my quite remarkable charity as soon as you may lay stylus to parchment. My position as your new benefactor and patron, as you will of course realise instantly, will be of immense importance to your further career. I have heard good descriptions of your own beauty and character, and will be delighted to see you in person at my evening banquet tomorrow night—it will be a simple affair where we will eventually be alone and where we can, I am sure, get to know each other much more personally. It will be the perfect situation, I have no doubt, in which you may show your particular gratefulness for my actions. Signed Lord Kreon, Senator._

"Well, dam' my eyes." Xena was bereft of words, opening and shutting her lips silently for an appreciable time. "What—what—what a dammed ape. Who does he think he—"

"He thinks he's an Athenian Senator, an' member of one of the most important families in Athens; both such givin' him free-range to do anythin' he damn well likes." Gabrielle snorted, derisively. "He always was a stuck-up, self-important, big-headed, lummox; an' he obviously ain't changed a tootin' bit."

Xena threw the offending parchment on the floor at her feet, leaned over to put a comforting arm round Gabrielle's shoulder, and planted a tender kiss on her left cheek.

"OK, baby, tell me everything. Gim'me all the details. What happened?"

—O—

"Well it was like this,—about eight years ago, long before I met you, I was trying to make a public career as a poet." Gabrielle sighed quietly at the memory. "I managed t'produce some quite good things, too, if I say so myself. I'd taken some of the best poets as my touchstone, y'see. Sappho, of course; then Anakreon, goes without sayin'; Simonides, and Menander, all the classics, y'see. And I'd managed t'write some little trifles I was quite pleased with."

"Sounds like ya took some great poets t'learn from?"

"Well, I wrote them all on a single scroll an' took them t'a scribe-manager who had such scrolls copied in bulk t'put out on the market." The erstwhile poetess frowned at the memory. "Producing an edition of some fifty scrolls wasn't cheap, though. He said he'd take a chance, but would still need around twenty drachms t'fully cover expenses. So I went lookin' for patrons; patrons with enough money an', I hoped, intellect t'recognise talent when they saw it."

"An', on a dark day, y'selected Kreon t'touch for the drachms'? Bad decision, I take it?"

"Dam' straight, sister." Gabrielle growled low, like a cat with a grievance. "So one mornin', after some preliminary messages between us, I rolled up at his villa in Athens; havin' been invited t'meet the useless lump."

"Didn't go well, I'm thinkin'?"

"His major-domo escorted me to a morning-room, where about another fifteen hangers-on were waitin' t'get their annuities from him." The blonde flung her head back in disgust. "He gave out weekly pensions t'certain people, like a Prince rewarding slaves. Kept 'em under his control; so he could use 'em for his own ends. I didn't like that, an' was determined not t'let him get that kind'a grip on me. I needn't have worried."

"Didn't get that far, eh." Xena nodded wisely. "Did ya, in fact, see the loser at all?"

"That's just the point, lover, no I dam' well didn't." Gabrielle snarled viciously. "I waited all mornin', with people comin' an' goin' all round me. But I stayed stationary, like a rock in a stream. Would the bastard see me; no, the bastard wouldn't. Finally, around midday, after havin' been there about four long clepsydra marks, I realised he was playin' mind games with me."

"Oh yeah? I kind'a like him less now than I did before; an' that wasn't much."

"He was just tryin' t'show who was boss, y'see." Gabrielle nodded wisely, with the knowledge and clear hindsight of maturity. "He'd let me stew the whole mornin'; then grant me a short interview, lay out his demands before givin' me any money, then have me, so he imagined, in the palm of his hand like every other poor sap who asked him for charity; an' so control me as an agent for ever afterwards, t'do as he pleased. This sort'a came t'me in fits an' starts, till I realised I was bein' made a fool of. So I upped an' walked out, vowin' horrible vengeance on his dandruffed shoulders, an've never set eyes on the fool since—till now."

"An' he remembers ya; an' wants t'start things again where ya both left off—he bein' your patron, now you're famous; an' probably thinkin' you'll be of even more use to him now than before?"

"That's it, lady." Gabrielle looked evil; which, on occasion, she was very good at. "But I'm gon'na scupper his plans, bigtime."

"Oh yeah? How?"

"I'm gon'na write him a scroll."

"Oh, hip-dee-dee. What good's that gon'na do, if I may ask?"

"Not just any scroll; but a scroll loaded with venom an' spit—"

" _Ewwh!_ Nasty."

"—that'll knock him back on his heels, an' no mistake." Gabrielle laughed wickedly. "I mean t'tell him things he hasn't heard since his nanny last whopped his ass as a child for stealin' honey-cakes. I got it all worked out. Wan'na hear?"

"Ya bet your lovely bu—er, legs, I wan'na hear; go ahead."

Gabrielle crossed to the table by the open window, picked up a scroll, and returned to stand beside her loving partner. She unrolled the short communiqué, gave a couple of preliminary coughs, wetted her lips with a delicately pink tongue—an act which made the Warrior Princess quiver—and began to read.

"I have been lately informed that a review of my latest scroll, in the ' _Athens Literary Catch-All_ ', recommending it to the Public's taste was written by yourself. I hardly know how to take, or acknowledge, such a distinguished honour; but I shall try.

When I first visited your Highness, Lord Kreon, I was somewhat overpowered by the public respect in which you were, as a result of your high position, held. I had earlier exhausted all my own respect in some preliminary scrolls to your honour, and was somewhat saddened to be ignored and neglected as a result.

Eight years ago, my Lord, I sat in your waiting-room, only to be finally repulsed unrequited. Since which I have been pushing on my work with, I may say, no act of assistance, word of encouragement, or smile of favour from yourself. I did not expect that sort of treatment from a possible patron; a variety of wildlife I had never before had the necessity to apply to.

Patrons, Senator Kreon; are they not a type who are unconcerned with the daily struggles of others, when these are of no apparent value as assets—and only deign to notice the needful actions of the suppliants when it is felt they could be of some personal use? If you had taken any notice of my labours at an early stage, that would have shown kindness when kindness was needed. But your potential kindness has been delayed till I am indifferent; till I cannot enjoy it for the friendly action it might have been; till I have found my footing in society and have, in the beautiful companionship of the love of my life, no longer any need for dubious charity; till I have made, a fact of which I do not boast, a name for myself and do not want your hand-outs; with their necessary concomitants of your control over my actions.

I am sure it is not cynical not to confess any obligation, where no benefit has been received? Or that I am unwilling the Public should consider me owing that to a Patron, which the Lady Providence has enabled me to do for myself?

Having worked to the present time, with little obligation to any other so-called Favourer of Learning, I shall not be disappointed to continue with even less of this pseudo-help; having long awakened from that dream of Hope in which I was before so naïve as to boast myself with some, clearly unfounded, exultation,

Lord Senator, Your Highness's most humble,

most Obedient Servant, G. of P.

Gently the warrior took this snappy retort from the hands of the blonde bombsh—delightful love of her life, and read it through once more, before looking into those jade-green pools of Love.

"Gabrielle, I got'ta hand it t'ya—you got a capability of ice-cold riposte that'd stop a tiger in its tracks, an' make it think twice. Y'gon'na send this as it stands?"

"Pretty much, yeah." Gabrielle looked at her lover, a slight smile shyly twitching the corners of her lips. "Y'think it'll do?"

"Oh, it'll do alright." Xena laughed. "It's sharper than my sword. I'm worried there may not be a physician handy, when he reads it—t'bind his wounds, y'know."

"Hah! Words are just as powerful as weapons, darling; sometimes, on occasion, much more so."

"An' this is that occasion, little blossom." Xena came close and hugged her companion tightly. "You sendin' it straight-off?"

"I was thinkin' a messenger's leavin' the villa here in a short time, t'take some documents to the Senate from our Host." Gabrielle grinned widely. "Just as soon as y'release me from this rib-bending bear-hug I can give him my scroll t'deliver on the way. Gods, Xena, I can hardly breathe."

Xena stepped back, with a grin of her own.

"You know, Gabrielle, I've always felt you have the form of a leopard; but the soul of a lion. Never more so than now."

This time it was the blonde Amazon poetess who stepped forward to hug her lover; and this time it was the Warrior Princess who growled at the tight grip of the arms encircling her waist.

The End.


End file.
